


Invisible Strings

by orphan_account



Series: How to Fall In Love With A Human [19]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6016624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cat and Kara work out what it means to be together as they are now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invisible Strings

Kara’s arms were still strong.  Her skin still smelled like vanilla.  Her eyes were still that blue so dark they caught the stars in them.  And she still got that little crease between her brows when she was focused, as she was now, on Cat’s face.  

They undressed each other, slowly, calmly; much as they’d missed each other, Cat didn’t want to rush this moment and neither, it seemed, did Kara.  They kissed softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, Kara working one delicate button after another, pausing to acquiesce to Cat’s hands tugging the sweatshirt over her head.  It wasn’t so much the lovemaking, though she’d missed that too, but the entire experience of Kara’s sweet, loving presence, that Cat had missed.  The softness of intimacy.  She wanted to learn Kara’s body all over again.

They made love in that bed, slowly, with the rain tapping at the windows and the murmur of Paris foot traffic below, testing sometimes to see if the maps of each other’s desires had changed in four months.  They had not, at least not significantly.  The weight of conversations that still needed to be had hovered over them, but failed to dampen their tender, passionate reunion.  They often seemed to communicate better after sex anyway, when their walls were down and they were too tired to say anything but what they meant.

And now was no exception, as they lay in each other’s arms, sweaty and tired, tangled up underneath the covers.  Kara was the first to speak.  “I’m glad you came here.”

Cat sighed and burrowed her cheek into Kara’s shoulder.  “I’m ready for you,” she said softly.  “At least, I think so.”

Kara kissed the top of her head.  “Why now?” she asked.  “It was the broadcast, I know, but why was that the thing?”

Cat thought for a moment.  She’d spent the entire plane trip out here managing the story from the plane, snapping orders into her sat phone and directing the coverage.  “Because… I saw all of you, in that moment.  And I realized that I had no reservations whatsoever about… you spreading your lovely wings in front of the world.”  Miranda’s words still echoed in her head.

Kara chuckled softly.  “You might be the only one.  My sister called me, yelling at me because my mother called  _ her _ , yelling at her.  The DEO is having a small meltdown.  And Phillippe was … well, he was yelling a lot too.  But he’s considering sending me into the field.”

“Because you can cover dangerous stories and not be in danger,” Cat finished, immediately understanding.  She kissed Kara’s chest.  “What you did was amazing, considering that you were completely green as a field reporter, but it was a little rough.  I think you could do it, though, with the right training.”

Kara smiled.  “Do you think Shazia would train me?”

Cat thought for a minute.  “It’s not out of the question.  If that’s what you want.”  She paused and looked at her.  “Of course, that would involve you coming back to National City.”

Kara smiled.  “I don’t know,” she teased, “what if Phillippe wants to train me?”

Cat snarled playfully.  “Let me show you how many fucks I give about what Phillippe wants.”  She made a big zero with her thumb and middle finger.

Kara turned a little more serious.  “But what if  _ I _ want to stay here?”

Cat shrugged.  “Then we’ll figure something out.  If you really want some field training with one of Phillippe’s teams, then you can have it.  But you also have, maybe, the opportunity to get mentoring from one of the most legendary reporters of our time, so.  I’m offering, Kara, not ordering.  Whatever you want.”

Kara studied Cat’s face.  She seemed to be thinking it over.  “And what about Supergirl?”

Cat raised an eyebrow.  “What about her?  It’s not as if you’re going to stop saving people, Kara, for goodness sake, you can’t help yourself.  I know all about L’Americaine.”

Kara smiled, looking almost embarrassed.  “It’s true.  But if I’m traveling the world, I’m not always going to be around to do stuff like that in National City.”

“But you’ll always be doing it somewhere,” Cat pointed out.  “And what do you think National City did before Supergirl?  We survived.  And we would again.  The way we always have.”

They kissed for a long moment, and then held each other quietly.  Finally, Kara broke the silence.  “So you know, I’m an ambassador now.”

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Cat replied vaguely.  “What exactly was that all about?”

Kara told her the story of how she’d felt so at home among the Amazons, how Hippolyta had gifted her an embassy, a piece of Kryptonian land, and made her ambassador to the Kryptonian people.

“How does that work exactly, being that there’s no Krypton?” Cat inquired.

Kara shrugged.  “I haven’t had a chance to think about it.  I think it was intended mostly as a ceremonial gift, an honorary title to make me feel at home.  But … it could be more than that if I want it to, I think.”

“How so?”

“Well, there are Kryptonians on Earth, most of them in hiding, and the ones that follow my aunt and her husband.  Maybe I can … I don’t know.  Reach out to them.  Help to integrate them into society or … or something.”

There was a small smile around Kara’s lips as she said this, as if relishing the idea that she could use her platform as a reporter and a hero to reach out to her kinsmen who remained in hiding, or broker a truce with her aunt.  Cat saw all the beautiful pieces weaving themselves together and it made her suddenly emotional.  She squeezed Kara’s frame tightly and whispered, “Just tell me how I can help.”

It was strange to be overcome with a wave of humility, but Cat found that, at least with Kara, it didn’t hurt as much as she’d feared it would.

Kara smiled.  “I will, as soon as I figure it out myself.”

They lay quiet, listening for another few minutes to the rain on the window.  Then Cat ventured, “And what about us?”

“You mean…?”

“I mean, will we be doing all this, whatever it is, together?”

The breath held still in her chest as she waited for Kara’s answer.  

“Are you ready for that?” Kara finally asked.

“I think so.  Are you?”

“Yes.”  She turned onto her side, propped up on one elbow, so she could look Cat in the face.  “I’m as much in love with you as I ever was, Cat.  My path is clear now, and whatever way you want to help me with that, I’m happy to accept.  But there’s only one thing I really want from you, and it’s not negotiable.”

“What’s that?” 

“If we do this, if we … let ourselves be together again, I want to know that we’re done with tiptoeing around.  I don’t want to be your ‘plus one’, I want to be your date.  I don’t want to show up in the papers as your ‘gal pal’ or your ‘assistant’ or ‘colleague’ or whatever.  The rest of my life is declared; I’m Kara Zor-El Danvers, hero, reporter, ambassador to Krypton.  I’m all those things and I’m not hiding any of them.  I need us to be declared too.”

Cat felt for a moment as though there was nothing underneath her, as if the bed had fallen away and she was hurtling downwards toward the ground, internally screaming as she fell.  “I’m ready to give you that,” she blurted out, and grabbed onto Kara and held her tightly, letting her strong embrace stop the emotional free-fall.  After a long moment of feeling magically suspended in Kara’s tight, loving hold, she whispered, “Don’t let go of me.”

“I won’t,” Kara promised, and Cat knew it was true.  “Not ever.”

They made love again, and it wasn’t quiet, and it wasn’t soft, and they damn near broke the bed, or at least Kara did, laughing and holding each other tightly and laying rough kisses on each other everywhere their mouths touched skin.  They grinned stupidly at each other as they came, dimly aware that the upstairs neighbor was banging on the floor with the handle of a broom and yelling something muffled in French.

  
  
  


****

  
  


Cat awoke some while later, able to vaguely make out the sounds of Kara on the phone, speaking in low tones in breathtakingly fast, flawless French.  Cat felt a little stab of envy.  Her own French was limited, though her accent was so good that she often fooled people and wound up getting barraged with it much faster than she could begin to handle.  She was usually lost three or four sentences in.  

She glanced out the window and saw the low, pale dawn swelling in the sky, beginning to illuminate the rain-slicked shapes of the city and the square below.  She stole a large Stade Francais rugby shirt out of Kara’s dresser and shuffled into the living room.  “What was that?”  she inquired.

“Oh, nothing, I just had to make a couple of calls.”  Kara tilted her head and looked at Cat, her lips twitching with a pleased little smile.  “It’s funny… It doesn’t feel real, to see you standing here, wearing my clothes,” she chuckled softly.  

Cat glanced down at herself and the shirt that reached down to the middle of her thighs.  “What, you don’t like the look?”

“Maybe with a belt and some nice earrings from LaCroix,” Kara decided.  She kissed Cat.  “I suppose I’m still going to work today.”

“The hell you are.  You’re the story.”

“But Phillippe says I can’t be a reporter and be the story,” Kara objected.

Cat shook her head.  “Tell that to Shazia Dhoury.  Her coverage of Rwanda was the story, but so was her interview about it with Bill Clinton.  Everyone, I mean, everyone, has seen those clips.”

Kara paused uncertainly, and then slowly nodded.  Shazia was one of a long line of journalists who told the story and yet were also inextricably part of it.  From Nellie Bly and Ida Tarbell, to Upton Sinclair, to Shazia, to the tragic story of Daniel Pearl.  It was alright to be part of a legacy.  “Well, what do you propose?”

“Go to work.  But I think you should do a live interview in the studio via satellite with Shazia, from the CatTV studios here in Paris.”

Kara put her hands on her hips.  “That’s not why you flew all the way out here, is it?”

Cat rolled her eyes.  “If that was the reason, I would have bothered to stop home for luggage,” she snorted, tugging at the rugby shirt that swam absurdly around her small body.

Kara nodded, smiling, and went inside to get dressed.   
  


 

*****

  
  


The day flew by.  Cat installed herself in an empty office down the hall from Philippe’s and was doing her job from there, and it was oddly almost like being back home in National City.  Kara did her interview with Shazia, having had the chance to collect herself after the experience and form some coherent thoughts about it.  Shazia’s questions were excellent, thoughtful and well-informed.  Cat had prepped her a little, so she was able to give answers that were intelligent and succinct.  

And then she left the broadcast studio, and went back downstairs and fell into doing her job, as if it were any other day.  Well, except that her email inbox was filled up with interview requests and talk show invitations.  She wasn’t ready for all of that yet.  She saw Cat in Phillippe’s office, having a conversation at some point during the afternoon.  Julien and Manon looked at her a little differently; for once, it really wasn’t a joke.  And all of this was important.  But she had something else on her mind.

She came to Cat at quitting time and gestured to the sun sinking below the skyline.  “Cat.  You want to get going?”

Cat glanced at her watch.  “Half a day, Kara?” she needled.

Kara stuck her tongue out.  “Come on.  You can work more later if you absolutely must.  It’s late.  Let’s go get dinner.”

They caught a taxi to Verjus, a tiny, romantic little place near the Louvre and Le Palais Royal.  Kara ate up the mildly surprised look on Cat’s face as they walked into the airy, immaculate space.  Cat was in Paris often enough to know it was hard to get a table here.  Kara gave her name, and they were seated.  Kara ordered them a spectacular dinner; one tasting plate after another came streaming from the kitchen, always arriving at just the right moment, paired with wines that were clearly leaving Cat near tears at how perfect they were.  

Kara enjoyed steering their evening, chatting easily with the waiters, who were incredibly attentive to their every need.  When Kara asked for the check, the waiter disappeared, and came back with the owner, who explained kindly that they would not be charging for their dinner; as it happened, the owner was one of those two people that Kara had pulled from that burning building in the Marais not long ago, and as he had not had a chance to thank her at the moment, a fine dinner for L’Americaine and her lady was surely the least he could do.

Cat raised an eyebrow.  As they left, she saw Kara drop an enormous tip on the table.

They strolled hand in hand along the Seine, catching each other up on the big and the small things that had been going on in their lives since they parted.  Kara was thrilled to hear that Carter had scored a large victory as a budding journalist and that he’d started to branch out and make some new friends.  She enjoyed the gleeful malice on Cat’s face as she talked about terrorizing the board.  Her heart skipped a little when Cat told her about  _ Edge Magazine, _ and her speech at the LGBT Press Club, which while hardly a “coming out” speech, contained the phrase “as a member of this community”... a small thing, but for Cat, a gigantic one, because she had so studiously avoided trading in labels.

She was feeling better and better about this evening as they walked, and finally Cat looked at her and demanded, “Where the hell are we going, Kara?”

Kara gestured upwards.  They’d been heading toward the Eiffel Tower.  It loomed over them, massive and lit in gold against the purple night.

“Of course you’d choose something so touristy,” Cat jabbed, but the softness in her voice belied her mood.

“Yes, but you’ve never done it like this,” Kara answered with a pleased little smirk.  She wrapped her arms around Cat’s waist, pulling her tightly.  “Put your arms around my shoulders and hold on,” she whispered in her ear.

In all the time they’d been together, they’d never done this.  Kara had no good reason for why.  Cat had never asked, Kara had never offered.  “Are you about to lift me up off of this ground?” Cat demanded.

“Yes.  Hold on,” Kara repeated.

The slowly began to float upwards, gently, like a hot air balloon, Cat’s chin resting on Kara’s shoulder.  Kara felt Cat’s grip on her tighten.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to drop you.”

“I’ll believe it when we’re safely on the ground again,” Cat answered through clenched teeth.

Well, that answered the question of why Cat had never asked.  They reached the top, hanging next to it in the air as if they were a kite, tethered to some invisible string.  “Are your eyes even open?” she laughed.

“No, not really.”

“Open them,” Kara said, her voice soothing and sweet.  “You don’t want to miss this.”

A moment later, Cat was breathing deeply, and Kara knew she was looking out over the city, over Kara’s shoulder, taking it all in.  “Oh my God,” Cat breathed.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Cat sighed.  “Don’t you dare drop me.”

Kara ran a hand over Cat’s hair.  “I’m going to turn us around now, okay?  There’s something else I want you to see.”

“Okay,” Cat answered, sounding nervous.

Kara slowly turned a hundred and eighty degrees in the air, and then said, “Okay, look down.”

After a moment’s pause, Kara heard the gasp she’d been waiting for.  

It had taken her some doing to arrange it, but as luck would have it, she’d stopped a large truck full of lanterns from going over a bridge about two weeks ago, and the owner of the shop who was receiving the delivery had been so grateful for the rescue of not only his merchandise, but his son who was driving the truck, that he’d given her his business card and told her to ask if she ever needed anything.

And now, Kara knew, Cat was staring over her shoulder, at the words spelled out in the pinprick lights of countless lanterns on the Champs de Mars:  “Marry Me, Cat”.

“Kara,” Cat sighed.  “Oh my god, Kara, are you joking?”

Kara kissed the side of Cat’s neck.  “Of course not.  If you can reach into the pocket of my sweater, there’s a ring in there.”

Cat shook her head.  Kara could feel her body trembling.  “I’d be afraid to drop it,” she said shakily.

They hung a few moments in the air, while Cat held onto her, trying to catch her breath.  The breezes whipped through their hair and the twinkling lights of the city spread out in front of them, a system of glittering veins that pulsed with their heartbeats.

“Cat, we need each other,” she said gently.  “Will you do this with me?  Grow together?  Push together?  Have our lives together, as a team?  Will you help me be my best self, and let me help you be your best self?”

Cat pulled her head back enough to look at Kara’s face, and kiss her deeply on the mouth before answering, “So this was your strategy, hm?  Take me up hundreds of feet into the air and THEN ask me?”

Kara shrugged.  “Is that a no?” she asked grinning.

“Of course not!” Cat snapped.  “It’s a yes!”

“You’re sure, now?” Kara teased. “You’re not just saying yes because you’re dangling helpless in my arms above Paris?”

Cat kissed her again, harder.  “Damnit, Kara.  Put me back on the ground and put that goddamn ring on my finger before I fire you.”

“Yeah, like all the other times you fired me.”

“Shut up.”

“I love you too.”

 


End file.
